Prisoner Who?
originally posted November 30, 2007

The walls of the prison were a pristine off-white and the ebony bars of each cell looked stark and trendy against them. The floor was a brilliant, shiny, linoleum that allowed you to click as you walked making you sound all important and maybe even somewhat imposing. Small, metal cameras posted along the corridors whirred about as they followed the movements of the hall roamers. At the top of an impossibly long T-corridor was a single-cell barred doorway with a prisoner draped upon it. He was tall and lanky, with a mane of blond-gray hair that accentuated the chiseling of his jaw line and cheekbones.

I was standing on the freedom side of the cell door talking to him. I can't recall what we were speaking of, but the mood of it was pensive (especially on my part) and much was unspoken. He looked down at me with piercing blue-white eyes. Reluctantly, (?) I palmed him a skeleton key and then turned and clicked my way back down the support of the 'T.' As the camera spun to follow me I could hear the shuffle of his orange prison jumpsuit as he extricated himself from the cell. He headed down the right arm of the 'T.' I opened the industrial half-glass door where I could see the front desk guards in their black uniforms watching a football game. Their heads turned towards me as I pulled the door open. They smiled. I returned the greeting and then made small talk with the excuse of waiting for my friend to finish up. The bank of security monitors they were supposed to be watching was blank. The cameras seemed not to be working at the moment. I made no mention.

Soon enough the prisoner was standing next to me in civilian clothes and together, we entered the elevator. We said nothing. A cacophony of cafeteria sounds smacked us as the elevator opened at the ground floor. Cathedral high glass walls occupied the background for a hive of culinary activity. Business professionals sat at various French-curved tables as they talked on cell phones, played with their laptops or talked in animated conversations with co-workers. Along the South wall was a line of buffet style restaurants like you'd find at the food court of the mall also filled with expectant customers as they craned necks and arms to get at their meals. Parrot colored neon titles for each eatery was posted above their section. We exited into the melee and carefully made our way out to the North exit.

The dusk made everything glow with an eerie red color that reminded me of that movie where the Haley's comet pass had turned everyone to dust except for a cheerleader and her sister. I half expected zombies to come out of the rusty shadows. We arrived at my now pink truck and got in and I drove us around town stopping at various places where my companion would leave, and then return in a matter of less than 15 minutes. He usually carried a bag or box out with him and put them in the back of the truck. Our last stop was a storage unit shed where he emptied the collected contents. He said he was collecting the belongings he had spread out around the city.

I returned him to the prison where he took me to the various locales inside to get back into his prison uniform. His clothes were neatly folded and placed upon a shelf with his boots where his name was labeled underneath. I walked him back to his cell where he returned the key and then I just stood there. I was supposed to return tomorrow so we could visit a dozen more places. I didn't want to, but felt obligated somehow. I stood at the cell door in a daze, as if I wasn't in control of myself. I felt like a thrall of some master wamphyri. I felt as if I was looking at myself from outside and my insides screamed for release. Finally, I left.

Fucking dreams!

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